


The Long Road to Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [5]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blood, Gen, Kevin and Sami are the worst when it comes to taking care of themselves and each other, M/M, Other, Swearing, because that's a thing now apparently, descriptions of semi gross things, don't drink alcohol in the heat either, don't sit out in the baking sun with no sunscreen, graphic violence i guess?, it dehydrates you, never let your friends sleep in hot cars parked in the sun, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, semi sexual pocket-searching, seriously do not ever take these oneshots as an example of how to treat injuries, stealth angst, terrible first aid, weird introspective musings about awful things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exhausted and somewhat sunstroked tiny baby!Kevin Steen sits on the hood of a rental and has lots of feels about stuff and things. Mostly blood and destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Road to Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Man, I kinda miss those last light-hearted oneshots. baby!Steen is so rough to write. I mean, he's amazing and super fascinating, but jesus he makes things difficult. At least this is post-match Steen, but that has its own problems (understatement of the year) which if you don't get that, just read on. You will soon know all of my pain.
> 
> Anyway, I hate to follow up all that wacky gas station hijinks with dark, broody, stealth angst but that was three in a row from Sami's point of view and I felt bad for Kevin. Besides, this one is really vague and nebulous anyway, it happens early in their careers (about august 2003-ish) so this is the only real place it could go. I'd rather not have to do a bunch of sequel-prequels, you know?
> 
> Hope you like weird metaphors for sex! Because I'm apparently incapable of writing a situation in which these two morons can interact with other normally and not make it strange and sexual and awkward.

Kevin’s knee twinges in protest as he hops up on the hood of the car. Ignoring the sharp pain he lets out a long luxurious breath of air, settling against the hot glass. Taking a long drink of the dubious alcohol Eddy had handed him after the show, Kevin leans his head back to stare up at the blistering sun.

Kevin can still feel it, the insatiable need for - _more_ \- clawing at his subconscious constantly.

It's still there but it is muted now. Kevin noted with some satisfaction, after ever match, the sharp craving seemed to fade into the back round. The feeling nothing more than white noise for a brief while. Win, loss or draw it always eases like a receding tide. This time is no different, the incessant need to always **take** - _more_ \- and - ** _more_** \- finally sated for the moment.

It’s an interesting sensation, to have successfully shut the nagging voice up momentarily and it leaves Kevin feeling slightly empty but unbelievably satisfied, like he just had the best orgasm of his life.

The sun baked car window eases his sore back muscles as the mysterious liquid burns his throat and he takes it all in, letting sensation wash over him. There is the muted bass of music from somewhere in the suburb below, mixed in with the dog barks and laughter of happy citizens on a Friday night.

Kevin basks in the realization that, momentarily at least, he does not want to make them scream instead of laugh.

It's strange that he's so calm. Just an hour before he’d taken a man's head and driven it into a barricade. He’d thrown the mans partner into the crowd. Power bombed one (which one? he doesn’t **remember** ) on the concrete floor. Slammed one of them so hard against the ring apron that the other wrestler had **bled**.

Kevin closes his eyes and lets the satisfaction of those mental images wash over him, the intense pleasure of one nights violence making his whole body sing with post-match endorphins. Even his sore knee is a small price to pay for such a delicious victory.

Sighing in contentment, Kevin raises the flask but quickly lowers it again, grimacing. The liquid smells vaguely like rubbing alcohol mixed with cat piss and tastes like what he imagines motor oil would taste like. He squints suspiciously into the flask before licking his bottom lip and throwing the container at the overflowing trash can next to a nearby picnic table.

Kevin is on enough of a rush as it is, its not like he needs anymore of a thrill right now. The night had gone exactly like he had wanted and he was not only sated but relaxed in a way he had not been in a while.

The sun beats down on his frame, plastering him to the car, the fierce rays molding his sweaty back to the hood. There is something gratifying about the way sweat rolls down his girth and onto the car, drying to the heated metal almost immediately.

The car is now permanently sullied with his sweat. Anyone who rents it after them will have to deal with the fact that the car is forever tainted by one Kevin Steen.

Its not the only thing he’d marked today either.

Kevin rubs the fingers of his right hand together lightly, letting flecks of dried blood fall to the hood beneath him. He had gotten carried away and made one of the other wrestlers **bleed** (he still can’t remember which. Or what their names were. Does it **matter**?) and though some part of him knew it was unsanitary, he had left the small flecks of blood where they fell, taking quiet satisfaction in the knowledge that he had **destroyed** his enemies so badly they **bled** for him.

His fingers are sticky with sweat both dried form earlier and fresh from baking in the sun. The flecks of blood slide around Kevin's fingers and he stares, remembering how he had felt in the ring.

He had slammed the other wrestler against the ring apron, the mans head bouncing off with a sickening crack. Kevin was not deterred - _yes, **take**_ \- ringing in his ears and had leaned down, grasping the wrestlers head with both hands-

-and paused, staring wide eyed as he took in the **bloodied** face before him. The pathetic creature in his arms flailed weakly, batting at him with ineffectual forearms, all but the most instinctual fight drained form him. Kevin watched, fascinated, as the man between his fingers spit tiny flecks of **blood** as he weakly cursed his tormentor, the **crimson droplets** freckling Kevin’s **skin**.

The red stood out on Kevin’s pale skin and he watched a few droplets slide down his fingers to pool at his elbows, leaving **long red trails**. Kevin felt **numb** for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime before a rush of adrenaline the likes of which he had never felt before **flooded** him.

The rest of the match was a long breathless blur of - _take take **take**_ \- Kevin not even bothering to hold himself back or try to rein his desire in.

He had **wanted**. So he had **taken**.

The absolute release of letting the beast free had been something so beautifully chaotic that it had taken Kevin’s breath away. He knew some people wrote timeless, emotionally moving stories, sculpted fine statues from wood and stone, or painted magnificent works of art, but wrestling had always been Kevin’s art of choice. He wove intricate stories between the ropes, molded other wrestlers skin into beautiful shades of blues and blacks, **stained** his brand on their **skin** in **blood**.

Wrestling was Kevin Steen’s great work of art. His **Mona Lisa** , his **Sistine Chapel**.

His life’s work would forever stand the test of time. Words could be forgotten, pottery broken, paintings faded, but Kevin’s touch was forever. He would sink his fingers into all of the world and wrench it to his satisfaction, feeling the adrenaline of the pillage.

The savory lullaby of savagery.

Kevin's knee gives a sharp ache in protest to being ignored, pulling him from his vicious thoughts and he sighs, rolling his neck before pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

(can’t a man internally monologue about his own fucked up **desires** for just one goddamn minute?)

(alright, twenty minutes. still. **fuck off**.)

Shit.

Grumbling darkly to himself, Kevin gingerly peels himself from the hood of the car, his sun burned skin shrieking in protest. Rolling his eyes derisively as his sweaty skin reluctantly parts with the molten metal, he slides off the car and teeters on the spot for a moment, waiting for his knee to decide if it can sustain his weight.

After a moment (and thankfully failing to fall on his ass) he hobbles over to the tiny rest rooms, the heat coming off the small concrete building almost worse than the car.

Rummaging around in his shorts, he curses his lack of spare change, kicking the soda machine in aggravation before running a clammy hand through his hair and sucking in a sharp breath.

Turning from the facilities, he walks unsteadily back to the car, moving to the back door and pulling it open.

Kevin leans into the open door, aching knees objecting as he crawls forward with most of his weight resting on them as his hands pat along a pale form.

Sami snuffles softly in his sleep as Kevin’s fingers dip into the pockets of his loose shorts, but otherwise seems undisturbed. Kevin internally scoffs at that, wondering how this **radiant idiot** with his scintillating **smiles** survived his whole life being so **trusting**.

Especially considering **who** he was willing to **trust**.

Stamping down the nauseous feeling that thought causes, Kevin focuses on his task, grimacing as he pulls handfuls of gum wrappers and pocket lint from the depths of Sami’s clothes.

Letting out a harsh breath through his nose, Kevin grasps Sami’s hip with one hand, pushing his other forearm into the backrest to brace himself. Pulling Sami up by the hip, he slides one leg forward to hold the lanky wrestler in place, freeing his hand to slide from Sami’s hip into his back pockets.

Sami finally stirs at the intrusion, though all he does is shift slightly, blinking his way slowly out of sleep and turning his head to stare blearily at Kevin.

“...‘s’matter?” the sleepy man mumbles into the stiflingly hot air between them, the inside of the car more furnace like than sitting on the hood had been.

“Shut up, I need change,” Kevin growls out, switching to the other pocket when the first only relinquishes a corroded dime and a marble, “What are you five? What kind of grown man carries around a marble?”

“Its lucky,” the slighter man stammers tiredly, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking around in puzzlement, before realizing why he can’t move and relaxing under Kevin.

Kevin scoffs, fingers digging around in Sami’s shorts, ready to just pull them off the other man so he would not have to tangle himself in knots just for a couple of quarters.

“You really are five fucking years old aren’t you? Lucky marbles, jesus christ- HA!” he exclaims triumphantly, pulling a handfull of change from Sami’s pocket and grinning down at the bemused wrestler.

“At least you are good for something. Other than getting our pay cut in half that is.”

He scoots out of the backseat, marching over to the soda machine and victoriously sliding the money into the slot, smashing a celebratory fist onto the first button, not caring what is in the gloriously cold can.

Sami sits up, gaze trained on Kevin as the heavier wrestler strolls back to the car, eyes almost shimmering in the blistering sunlight.

“Kevin we could just go down to the gas station and-”

Kevin raises a insolent finger, effectively cutting the other man off, “No we can’t,” he quips, plopping down on the baked earth in front of the open car door, tucking the ankle of his uninjured leg under his sore knee, “You got our pay docked remember?”

Sami shuffles forward, gangly legs sliding to the ground around Kevin, bare feet kicking up small clouds of dust that makes Kevin want to sneeze.

“I didn’t though! That was you! You made the promoters kid bleed-”

“Nope. That asshole definitely stiffed us because of your stupid fucking face. Although I personally thought that covering your ugly mug with a mask improved things considerably, jackass promoter guy seriously disagreed,” Kevin said flatly, pressing the blessedly cool can to his throbbing knee and closing his eyes.

He felt rather than saw Sami shake his head in exasperation and almost smiled at the soft, indignant squawk.

“Okay Kevin, whatever you say. Just maybe don’t slam people on the apron so hard next time?”

“Mmm,” Kevin murmurs noncommittally, head filling with images of bloodstained **skin** , dripping with sweat and tears, system flooding with that deep **satisfaction** briefly before he carefully closes the sensation away for **later** (now is not the **time** )- _always the **time**_ -(No)

“I make no promises. That kid had it coming, arrogant asshole talking to you- _us_ - ** _me_** ,” Kevin cracked one eye open and gave Sami a glare before soldiering on, “-like that. Piece of shit needed to take his big-headed smugness and shove it straight up his ass.”

Sami is beaming at this point, the **resplendent** light brighter than the rays beating down on them.

“Yeah, that guy was a bit too much. Arrogant little twerp. Totally unlike you, yeah?” Sami says, the mischievous curl of his lips and amused sparkle in his eyes making Kevin’s breath catch and mouth water for some reason.

Lodging his teeth in the tab, Kevin pops the can open and takes a long, rather disgusting drink (knock-off mountain dew is the fucking **worst** ) but it seems to satisfy his sudden **thirst**.

“Absolutely, after all you would not hang out with a self important jackass would you, Sami?”

Sami laughs softly, pressing his ankle into Kevin’s uninjured leg.

“I think I’d be friends with you regardless of who or what you were on any given day Kevin Steen.”

Kevin chuckles though its with little humor, the **earnestness** on Sami's face making his insides twist painfully even as he shoves the feeling away.

Putting his hand on Sami’s thigh, Kevin pushes himself roughly to his feet, shoving his soda at Sami and jerking a thumb behind him.

“Go throw that away while I clean your pocket trash out of the rental. We need to hit the road if we want to eat this week.”

Sami stood, taking the can and brushing Kevin’s shoulder on his way past.

Kevin flicks his fingers out until they collide with Sami’s arm (accidentally)- _liar_ -( **fuck you** ) in response before leaning into the back seat and raking all the gum wrappers into a pile.

Something shiny catches his eye and he reaches down to the floor boards and picks up a marble.

“ _Its lucky_ ,” a sleep soft voice echoes through his mind, making Kevin clench the small sphere tightly. The sunlight filtering through the car windows makes the green and blues and browns of the marble **shimmer** , the colors cascading across Kevin’s fingers, reminding him so starkly of **hazel eyes** and **smiles** so **bright** they fill his **dark world** like a **rising dawn**.

Kevin runs a sweat slick thumb over the translucent surface and watches the luminescence pool on the upholstery of the backseat. Drawing in slow steady breaths in time with the movement of the light as the trees obstruct the sunlights path into the car, Kevin feels entranced.

He wonders briefly if that should **worry** him more than it does.

- _ **caught** is **caught**. nothing to do now but **savor** the **cage** you've been **locked** into_ -(no.)

“You want me to drive Kev?” Sami’s groggy voice breaks through his musings and Kevin fights the urge to snap at him.

“Fuck no, you drive like a maniac. Besides, you will probably fall asleep,” Sami drops his hands from scrubbing tiredly at his eyes, a faint blush rising to his scruffy cheeks.

Kevin scoops up the wrappers and heads for the trash, “You can go back to sleep lightweight,” he grumbles, hip checking Sami on the way, smirking when Sami stumbles to the car whining about how he is not a lightweight.

Tossing the trash in the garbage can, Kevin pauses, marble in hand, contemplating giving it back to Sami or throwing it away and watching him freak out once he wakes up properly and realizes its missing.

Then again, Kevin can keep it and still watch Sami freak out about it being missing.

Decisions.

The sun glints off the marble as it sits between his fingers, the glass a greenish-bluish-brown, sending sparkling shafts of light shining across the picnic table and trash can. The contrast of the brilliant light splayed across the barren, splintered wood and rotting garbage completing the effect so well it makes Kevin’s heart hurt.

The car horn honks behind him and Kevin turns his head slightly, watching as Sami grins at him before leaning down to fiddle with what Kevin assumes is the radio, no doubt ready to restart their eternal battle over what awful music to fill the car with.

Kevin casts one last look at the trash can before turning his back on the light playing across the seating area and walking resolutely toward the car and his future.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, that was heavier than I intended. Sorry about emo!Steen. You know how he gets. I have zero idea why Kevin digging around in Sami's pockets turned out as sexual as it did. Well, okay, when I type it out like that it does seem kinda sketch, but still. It's like the backrub/porno from The Way Forever Hurts all over again.
> 
> This was SUPPOSED to be baby!Steen carrying on loudly and at length about how fucked in the head he is over beating the shit out of people, but then foreshadowing happened and then callbacks and then Sami had to get involved (he was just supposed to quietly sleep in the car but Kevin can't keep his damn hands to himself) and ug. It all just snowballed into a huge mess. 
> 
> I kinda like it though. I will admit, the writing flows better when I let them be as stealth angsty as they want to be. You probably shouldn't expect purely floof!Zowens from me (and I will probably NEVER write properly fluffy Steenerico) because I'm shit at it. Which sucks, because sometimes I just want them to be happy you know? Just some lighthearted love fest. But these two assholes are all OKAY SURE SIT DOWN AND WRITE FLOOF IF YOU THINK YOU'RE HARD ENOUGH- HA HA HA LOL NOPE NO FLUFF FOR YOU SUCKER!
> 
> Jerks. I love 'em tho.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Long Road to Forever is Getting Shorter.png](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455838) by [JayDD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayDD/pseuds/JayDD)




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